SMITTEN: lunacy glue for the soul.

I want to be somewhere else, I want to be someone else, I want to be a purer version of me, I want to extract the polution that clouds myself and create a shiny version of me all wrapped up in tissue paper and bulle wrap, perfectly, for all time, at least until I start to rot from too much perfection because without my flaws, who am I? And does that make my flaws my strengths?

Remember in elementary school when they tell you you cannot start a sentence "And..."? Well, later, they say, "Oh, it's tolerable under certain conditions." Well, I do it a lot. And I say "well" a lot. And a lot a lot. I'm being obnoxious. I hate that.